This blog is dedicated to the memory of my son Brian, who died at 31 from a blow to the head.
Here, I'm attempting to recreate his story.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Dancing in the streets.

(Dancing on the Willamette Bridge in Eugene, Oregon, with Janet Lee, 2010)

Brian loved music, all kinds, all instruments, all vocals, all beats. Through a series of life experiences he was introduced to dance, theater, piano, guitar, partly because as a young child he came along whenever his sister Pia performed or attended practices, partly because he was constantly improvising with whatever instrument he could get his hands on.

He was eclectic by nature, and in his possession, after the memorial, we found many tapes and recordings, including old LP's he had "borrowed" from his big brother Scott, who had in turn salvaged them when the family was forced to abandon our residence after the Northridge Earthquake of 1994.

Soon after that, he inherited a very special guitar, a gift from a friend of his father when he heard that the boy was interested in jazz. This friend was a nephew of legendary Billy Strayhorn. This connection, The A Train piece, the Duke Ellington connection, all became motivation for Brian to learn the instrument, jam with friends.

I don't know when he began to dance. I do know that he loved all forms of music, and dancing on the street, on a moonlit night would fit his idea of jamming.

After college, as he moved around, he took few things with him, his cat Newkie, his guitars and recordings, his computer, his books, a frying pan and cookbooks from our pre-earthquake house in Woodland Hills, the one we made our pasta sauce in, and all the cards and letters I had sent him.